


Nor'Easter

by syntheticvision



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abandonment Issues, F/M, Horror, Mentions of Past Natasha Romanoff, Missing Persons, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Past Childhood Trauma, Reclusiveness, Stalking, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29402352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syntheticvision/pseuds/syntheticvision
Summary: A newly installed housekeeper of world-renowned but reclusive therapist Dr. James Buchanan Barnes is stuck inside his estate during a massive storm when the truth of what lies beneath his calm exterior rises to the surface during an accidental reveal of his past.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 24
Kudos: 41





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know the first chapter is ridiculously short.
> 
> Expect chapters two and three to follow suit within the next few days. They will be much longer in length.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> 

“Mr. Rogers,” you greet him nervously, eyeing him up and down as he smiles at you. It’s polite but behind the flash of white teeth belies a darkness that you can see in his gaze. He's always been friendly with you, overly genteel in his own way but he stands too close now.

“I’m sorry if I caught you by surprise. I was wondering if you had a chance to consider my offer.”

You prop the mop against the door, trying to keep some distance between yourself and Steve.

“I don’t think I would be a good fit. Mr. Barnes is looking for a housekeeper. I'm not exactly what he would be looking for.”

Steve lifts his brows at your denial, exhaling a breath as he rolls his tongue under his lower lip.

“Do you want to continue working here?” Steve asks, his attention on the shoppers that move past you listlessly, pushing their carts as they continue searching down the aisles. “I’m offering you a bigger salary, better hours and a chance to get out of this ever-revolving hellhole called retail.”

You’d dreamt about leaving this place that you had worked at since you’d graduated college. Jobs were hard to come by and even with you clawing your way up, you’d made it to store manager – not even a district manager. Steve had caught you by surprise once, talking to you casually as his assistant loaded up the car with his office supplies. A hotshot lawyer for an in-demand therapist named James Buchanan Barnes. You’d heard of him before, taking clients in his home office somewhere up in upstate New York. His work was renowned, something that you’d read multiple times in various magazines.

But he was also known for his demanding ways, his mercurial attitude and his reclusiveness. He’d fired at least three housekeepers from Steve’s count and that alone had made you nervous that you would not do well if you suddenly left your long-suffering job for a chance at double the pay.

There was always a risk.


	2. Synoptic

The lush sound of Camille Saint-Saëns’ ‘Le cygne’ comes on full force once the door is closed, Steve shaking the excess water out from his umbrella. The music is good omen, a sign that the worst is over as he places the umbrella inside the holder, shrugging off his coat while surveying the foyer. Not a single thing out of place. No mess for him to call a cleaning crew for.

“Steve.”

James is dressed in a pair of black slacks, a white shirt and a cardigan with coffee in hand. This is progress, Steve tells himself, adjusting his tie at the sight of him. The sight of the thin black gloves over his hands does not phase him. The metal is a distraction, one that Dr. James Buchanan Barnes cannot afford to deal with when he has clients.

Steve was a client once. When they were younger and James was starting out, enraptured with his program, ready to diagnose problems that were buried too deep. It wasn’t uncommon for him to ask questions as they moved about their lives.

_“Do you ever miss your parents, Steve?” James asked, an eyebrow lifting as Steve stared down the empty bottle of beer. “You have to think of them, right?”_

_“Sometimes,” he answered, unwilling to give any more detail. The questions used to be interesting. Now they have become downright invasive._

_“But you have to miss them. Longing comes out in other ways, doesn’t it? The fear of being alone? Needing companionship?”_

But that was then and this was now. After James’ accident that makes Steve call him by his first legal name and not ‘Bucky’, the moniker he’s been known for since they met.

This man is part monster, part man, depending on the time of day. Medication helps but it only suppresses it for so long.

Then the cleaning crews arrive, lawyers are called and checks are written. Usually by Steve’s hand. It’s much easier now to process now that he has had plenty of practice. He can recite their names and be empathetic on cue. An Oscar-worthy performance for the grieving families and for the police who have come to look the other way now that their pockets have been lined with bribes.

“The house looks nice,” Steve says stiffly, his tongue dragging over his pink lips. “Hope it stays that way.”

“How bad is it coming down?” James asks, ignoring the minor dig as he sips his coffee, bright blue eyes searching Steve’s. “I thought you would have had good news for me.”

“Not exactly. It appears your reputation precedes you.”

The fireplace crackles as a log splits in two, the small burst of flame behind James giving him a mystical and otherworldly appearance for a moment.

If James is disappointed, he doesn’t show it, lifting an eyebrow at the remark before he shrugs. What is of little inconvenience now will soon become a bigger problem. Steve knows this. Even if James does not.

He’s buried enough of them to know that the problems can multiply if he isn’t careful.

“Someone else then,” James suggests. As if they are talking about the weather, making small talk instead of finding a suitable person to tend to the estate.

And to James.

“No,” Steve responds, his voice tight with determination. “She’s perfect. Organized, quiet and moldable.”

At this, James cocks his head to the side with interest, a flash of white teeth appearing as he finally gives a hint of a smile.

“Moldable, you say?”

“Sheltered. Only living relative left is a mother who is currently hospitalized.” Steve is relieved as he speaks, the idea of having less people to notify if she goes missing, the better.

“What are her qualifications? College educated?”

“Currently working on her Masters. Bachelor in Psychology. Working as a shift supervisor at a local office supply.”

“There’s much more space here,” James offers, like it is an incentive. Like Steve hasn’t tried. “More money. Freedom to come and go.”

“She’s aware of that fact,” Steve reminds him coolly. “As I’ve said, your last three housekeepers are what is keeping her away from this position.”

It’s silent now at his quick admonishment. James - _Bucky_ \- may not want to rehash the details of what transpired in this estate but he cannot hide from it. No matter how hard he tries.

“I know you’re looking out for me,” James says, his voice kinder now. More Bucky and less… whoever he is now. “I’m sorry. I appreciate you trying. I just need… I need someone who can take care of the place. Take care of me.”

Steve doesn’t let him see the glassy tears that collect in his eyes as he nods quickly. He’ll do whatever it takes to get James back to the man he knew, regardless of the boundaries he will cross.

“I’m sure she can be persuaded,” Steve replies after a moment. “A little push in the right direction.”

“I can double the pay. I’ve ordered my medication. Should be here before the storm hits so there won’t be any difficulties.” James seems sincere. Almost apologetic, like he’s trying to bargain his way into finding yet another housekeeper.

This one will be so much more. They have to be, Steve reasons, patting his pant pockets for his cell phone. Through the window, the rain has finally stopped, just enough for Steve to imagine the thick blanket of snow that will soon cover the sprawling estate, shimmering white and pristine.

He hopes it will stay that way.


End file.
